Tony Stark stopped mid-stride, coffee in one hand, tablet tucked under his arm, senses screaming that something was about to go sideways. He turned on his heel.

“FRIDAY?”

“Yes, boss?”

“Where’s my daughter?”

There was a pause.

“Workshop Three, with Mr Parker.”

Tony didn’t slow down. “Doing what?”

“Mr Parker described it as ‘completely safe.’”

“And you led with that because…?”

The workshop doors slid open before he reached them.

Peter Parker was crouched under a workbench, holding a tarnished, humming tracking device. Y/N was in Tony’s chair, looking far too comfortable.

Peter looked up. Very, very slowly.

“Mr Stark.”

“Kid.”

“Hi.”

Tony pointed at the device. “Is that mine?”

“Yes,” said Peter.

“No,” Y/N said at the same time.

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that.”

His phone buzzed. He glanced down. His entire demeanour shifted.

The amusement bled out of his face. His grip tightened.

“FRIDAY, lock down the remaining inventory. Full manifest. I want it on my desk in ten.”

“Already on it, boss.”

Peter straightened, the device forgotten. “What’s wrong?”

Tony was quiet for a beat longer than necessary.

“Everything’s fine.” The lie tasted like ash. He forced a smile. “Stay out of trouble. And don't touch my stuff.”

Across town, in a dark warehouse, Frank Castle stared at the crate in front of him. Inside, a row of glowing cores hummed with stolen power.

Stark Industries.

“Aw, hell.”

Behind him, a man was tied to a chair, bleeding from the mouth.

“I already told you everything.”

Frank’s voice was flat. “You told me enough to get me to stop asking.”

The rustle of fabric. Frank’s boots scraped the concrete. “Let’s try again. Who’s the buyer?”

“I don’t know.”

Silence.

“Please don’t hit me again. I’ll show you the next drop.”

Frank crouched, close enough to see the man’s reflection in the steel.

“Where?”

“Brooklyn. Tomorrow. Some warehouse off the BQE. I don’t know the specifics.”

Frank stood, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a phone. He was already dialling as he kicked the man’s chair over.

The call connected on the second ring.

“Yeah,” said a gruff voice.

“Got something for you. A lead on the Stark tech moving through the city. Real people this time.”

The voice on the other end laughed. “And what do you want out of it?”

“Tell you what I find.”

“You want in?”

“I want to watch it burn.”

The line went dead.

Frank pocketed the phone and looked down at the man on the floor.

“Count to sixty before you run.”